FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

Week-ends are a mixed blessing for those who do not have to go to work. You wake up to the delicious reality that there is "no rush." But the reality is short-lived. There may be no haste, but what about waste? The pressure is still on to do something industrious before the week-end slips away.

Social engagements aside, there's always housework or grocery shopping to do. But who wants to set the tone for a relaxing week-end via the head-deadening drone of the vacuum? And why leave the house only to join hordes of shoppers? That leaves the internet. But what kind of wool-between-her-ears woman would while away her week-end on the World Wide Web?

"Good morning, Max," I say, as my son wanders over to my desk, where I am sipping and surfing, getting my morning caffeine and ezine fix before the "house" wakes up. I don't like my son to see me this way : "collée à l'ordi" or "glued to the computer" as my daughter would complain. Because it is the week-end, I cannot argue back about its being my job--this sticky business of working from home.

Over the phone last week, my grandmother continued her list of mea culpas, including the confession that she needed cigarettes and coffee (an hour before the household began to stir) in order to face four children and a hectic day. She must be referring to the pre-dawn, perfectly-independent-of-others "Mommy Hour". And while her screen was made of smoke and nicotine, mine is made up of HTML and requires electricity for "steam". My grandmother used her smoke screen to let her day filter in gently, lest it overwhelm and defeat her before the caffeinated courage kicked in. Je peux comprendre.*

"Mommy," Max says, before I've finished my first cup. "Do you want to go for a walk?"....

I've got mea culpas of my own: guilt over not parceling out my day in a more productive, pleasing-to-all way. Lying in my grandmother's arms last month, my head over her heart, I, too, confessed: to being forty and still so far from faultlessness. Life seemed a series of stumblings. Get up. Trip. Get up again.
Trip again. No wonder some of us need a morning net through which to filter life--if only the screen could catch us!

While my grandmother can no longer drink coffee or smoke, soothing to her now is that screen or filter known as Faith, through which life's trials pass gently... and often with the pull of a helping hand: I reach out for my son's. "I'd love to join you for a morning walk!" I say to Max, who responds with a smile even in his eyes.

I don't want lazy weekends--or life itself--to slip by. Forget industrious or independent, perhaps it is with others that time is best spent. Dependency or, rather, interdependency, has its place. More than caffeine, nicotine or even a computer screen, some of us can no longer function without another's help. Just as I had wheeled my grandmother from her bed to the bathroom, my own son "wheeled" me out of my Saturday morning rut... to where life is vibrant and very near full bloom.
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